


save me, i'm lost

by hannrose



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Avengers Compound, F/M, MJ gets powers, Post-Endgame, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, SHIELD, also some of the avengers as well, mj is a sad mess too, peter is a sad mess, shes POWERFUL
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-03-14 17:34:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18952741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannrose/pseuds/hannrose
Summary: peter parker is told by fury that mj, one of his best friends, has developed powers-- and that peter must turn her into SHIELD





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> im so excited for this!! just fair warning: whatever happens in far from home won't affect what happens in this story. and i'm not an expert on fake government agencies like shield so bare with me. but anywho, i hope everyone enjoys!

Patrolling in the morning usually got Peter nowhere. Bank robbers weren’t fond of seven a.m. heists, nor were most gunmen itching to get into a shootout with police. Usually, the most fun Spider-Man had in those early hours was helping a lost child find their way or getting drunk college students back to their dorm-- which, really, felt like the same thing.

 

Still, every day before school, Peter would try to get some of those hours in. His school day was lengthy and he would be desperate to go out and patrol, but since he promised May that he’d actually  _ attend _ every class, his morning runs was his compromise. He’d wake up at four after getting to bed at midnight, living off of nothing but caffeine and carbohydrates. There was hardly a day where Peter truly loved his morning routine, but today, he felt good.

 

He rushed through the air, pressing the platelets on his palms and watched the webs connect to a window pane in front of him. His body hurled down, the webs tightening and flinging his body up. For some reason, he was finally in a mood he could qualify as  _ positive _ , after weeks of saying otherwise.

 

The time emboldened in his view. He changed directions, taking note that he should start heading to school. Peter felt the wind gush past him as he did, not in any rush. He usually got to school with twenty minutes to spare, so his leisurely swings were more than adequate. 

 

“ _ Incoming call from Nicholas Fury _ ,” his suit’s AI, Karen, interrupted his thought process. A Google image of the SHIELD director replaced the time, his cold eye staring into Peter’s soul as if he was real.

 

Audibly, he groaned. “You’d think that man would catch a hint,” he joked. “I mean, if  _ I _ can before  _ he  _ does, then he has a problem.”

 

“ _ Yes, one would think that. However, you called her forty three times before giving up. Fury has only called thirteen times _ .  _ Would you like me to connect the call? _ ” 

 

“No! No, don’t connect it. Fury will figure it out,” he rushed, hoping it wasn’t too late. Fury terrified him, even after Peter helped him out in Europe.  _ Especially _ after he went AWOL on him for a month, especially after the events that led him to go AWOL. There was no way Peter was talking to him.

 

Without another word from Karen, Fury’s picture disappeared from the screen. Relief flooded his chest as his school bobbed in and out of his view, and the area where he changed into his clothes quickly approached. Peter landed into the back alley and after checking for pedestrians, he stripped of his suit and threw his sweatshirt over his head. His pants came next, then his shoes, and he sprinted out of the alley, short of breath.

 

He boarded the nearby subway and pulled out his phone. The one missed call from Fury was shown, but also four missed texts from Ned--all about if Peter had done his biology homework--and one text from May. Peter left his wallet on the counter “ _ so no trips to Delmar’s today _ ,” May had added.

 

Silently, he chuckled. That tinge of disappointment that he still felt in his chest was getting easier and easier to ignore everyday, as long as two of his favorite people populated his notifications.

 

Peter soon left the subway and trudged his way into his school. His head hung low as he crossed the football field, the only time he picked it up being when the hair on his arm stood up. A few feet away from the door, Peter stopped, recognizing the feeling. He peered around eagerly hoping to find who he was looking for, but as quickly as it had appeared, the feeling left his body. 

 

He swung the door open, and all the good feelings he previously had were gone. Peter knew better; he knew not to get his hopes up. What was his  _ problem _ ?

 

“Dude,” Ned ran up to him, out of breath as he waved a piece of paper in his friend’s face. “Give me your biology homework.”

 

Peter smiled, slightly rolling his eyes, and pulled Ned to the side of the hallway. He lowered his backpack onto the group and pulled out his biology binder, which Ned instantly stole from his hands. “I’ve been texting you for an hour!” he said, his breathing short. “Where have you been? This is more important than cats in trees! This is my  _ life _ on the line.”

 

“I don’t save cats in trees,” Peter rebutted. “If you must know, someone tried robbing an ATM and I stopped them.” 

 

“Yeah, interesting, Pete,” Ned mumbled. His focus was on his bio homework, copying Peter’s every line. “What happened last night? That’s always cooler.”

 

He knew Ned was just asking to be nice, but still, Peter recited his evening. May never wanted to know, she said it scared her too much, so Ned was now the only person he had to talk to about this. And usually, he loved hearing it, just not when his academic career was on the line. 

 

“I kinda ran into a brick wall but it wasn’t even my fault!” Peter screamed. “I literally think it--”

 

That feeling came again, interrupting his thoughts.

 

The feeling he always got when somebody pulled out a gun, or threw something at his head. The feeling he had before he walked into school, even though that was more muted than  _ this _ . Peter’s stomach clenched, his breath hitched, the hairs on the end of his arm stood up as he became increasingly alert-- and that’s when he saw her.

 

Michelle had her head tilted down, her features hidden by her messy curls. She clutched her books to her chest, even though her backpack was strapped on, and didn’t wait for the slow people in front of her to speed ahead of them. She was getting closer, and his stomach churned even more. And closer, and Peter started sweating. Closer, and any chance he had of talking was diminished when his tongue got caught in his throat, and when he noticed the earbuds stuck in her ear.

 

He could only think and stare. Like a deer caught in the headlights.

 

_ I miss you _ , he thought. It was almost like Michelle heard him; she lifted her head up momentarily, and for the first time in a month, Peter made eye contact with her. Sadness hid behind them, and guilt overtook that as she shielded her face once more.

 

“You think what?” Ned interrupted him. He rose from his crouched position on the floor and followed Peter’s line of sight. Sighing, he clapped a hand onto his friend’s shoulder. “She’s been back a week, Peter. Don’t you think she would’ve said something if she was still interested in being friends with us?”

 

Michelle disappeared into her classroom, and his body finally relaxed. He turned to Ned and took back his biology binder, shoving it into his backpack. “You say that like we meant nothing to her.”

 

“I certainly know  _ you _ meant something to her,” Ned emphasized. “I just meant that her mother told you to stop calling, so obviously MJ wants us to leave her alone.”

 

“She said that because MJ didn’t feel well. But, she’s back now. She’s feeling better. Maybe--”

 

“Oh, I know that look. Don’t think what you’re thinking.” Ned pointed his finger in Peter’s face, his eyes squinting as he looked intensely. “It’s not your fault that she’s distant. You kissed her! No big deal. You tried talking to her and now she won’t talk to you. That’s on her. You kissed me and we don’t see me making a huge deal out of it.”

 

The pensive, pessimist expression Peter had was replaced. He playfully punched Ned in the arm, hissing, “We said we weren’t going to talk about that.”

 

“It was an example, Pete. Just-- maybe think about moving on a bit. All I want is for you to be happy.” Brightly, Ned smiled as the bell for five minutes until the start of school rang. “Also I want to pass biology. So let’s move it.”

 

They had biology with Michelle. Thankfully for Peter’s internal organs, he had partnered up with Ned at the beginning of the school year. She was thrown with Flash, who, because of her absence, forced his way into Peter and Ned’s station. He refused to move, and Michelle now had to work by herself.

 

But that seemed like it was apart of her plan. Flash was one less person she had to deal with, she quit the Decathlon team, she quit everything. She wore her earbuds all throughout class, and Peter could hear every song she played. It made him beyond angry. Michelle was pushing everyone out of her life, and Peter just let her. He hardly even put up a fight.

 

He should’ve gone to her house earlier, he thought, his eyes burning into the back of her head as the teacher drowned on. Peter had waited four days because Flash--a stupid person to listen to--advised him not to look so desperate. He called, and texted, and on the fourth day visited, only to be ignored.

 

Still, if Peter had just gone earlier, maybe things with Michelle wouldn’t be like  _ this _ . He honestly felt as if his chest was going to implode just by being in the same room as her. And when she’d peek over her shoulder for a second, his lungs became constricted.

 

Peter hated it. He hated not being able to talk to one of his best friends. He hated not knowing why she wasn’t talking to him. He hated knowing it was his fault, and even though she kissed back, and even though she looked happy about it, he should’ve asked. He hated it all.

 

“Cindy told me that she was in the hospital because she had to get her stomach pumped and they messed up, which is why she was gone for so long,” Flash gossiped. He was watching as Ned started the lab work, and as Peter’s eyes were still glued to Michelle’s head.

 

“What? Who?” he asked, not bothering to look at Flash.

 

“ _ MJ _ , obviously. Your little girlfriend-- or ex girlfriend, I’ve lost track. Cindy heard that she went on a bender and had to go to the hospital. Oh, or that she got pregnant and her parents sent her to this private school until they figured things out.  _ Or _ MJ was on the run from the cops... but her name got cleared.”

 

Ned scoffed, “Because getting pregnant or drinking alcohol sounds like MJ.”

 

In the corner of his eye, Peter saw Flash shrug. He gave a smug smile and said, “Well, why don’t we ask Pete? I bet he’d know about at least one of those.”

 

Peter gripped the table, finally peeling his stare away from Michelle.  _ Defend her, stand up to him, say something _ , his mind chanted. There was no reason for being so scared, and yet, he was. “She’s right there, Flash. Why don’t you broadcast it a little louder?”

 

Giddy, Flash opened his mouth again, but was cut short by Ned slapping a hand to his chest. “That means shut up,” he blurted. “Uh… shut up  _ please _ .”

 

Flash’s face was flushed with discomfort for as long as it took him to write his name on the worksheet, and then he was back to being cocky and annoying. He never mentioned Michelle again-- besides the winks he gave Peter when he saw her staring. 

 

On the other hand, Peter was dwelling on it the whole period. His comebacks finally formulated in his head; she was never his girlfriend, he scared her away before that could happen; if Michelle drank a single drop of alcohol then hell was going to freeze over; how could she get  _ pregnant _ when she was too busy talking about how celibacy was on the table until she got into Harvard; the only bad things Michelle ever did, was when she was around Peter, so her being on the run from the cops was one of the dumbest things he’d ever heard. 

 

Of course, it was too late to fire back. The only chance he had of dispelling these rumors were gone. 

 

Ned noticed, and after they left biology, and after Peter let out a huge breath as Michelle left class first, he said, “It’s not your job to defend her anymore. I loved being her friend and I cared about her, but she’s done with us. And we tried, right? And failed.”

 

Peter just nodded, his lips sealed, as he grabbed his backpack and strided towards the door. He was stupidly loyal, and was probably never going to give up trying.

 

The rest of the school day followed similarly. In every class they had together, Peter stole glances and thought about her the whole time. Once or twice, he had caught her staring back with sympathetic eyes, but she would instantly dart them back to her paper.

 

Lunch came and went, and he didn’t see her in the cafeteria. He tried not to worry about it; Ned was right, it wasn’t really his business anymore. 

 

And then she wasn’t in their afternoon classes, and Peter practically had to glue himself to his desk so he wouldn’t check up on her at her house. Michelle missed three straight weeks of classes, and now she was missing more? She used to be scared to even be a minute late to study hall. 

 

Peter was distracted during his afternoon patrol. It was so much easier when Michelle wasn’t walking around school; he could pretend like she still wanted him, and was just too sick to use a cell phone. But seeing her in school-- walking past him and making his lungs implode-- made Peter feel horrible. And he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

 

That wasn’t new, though. It felt like he had been thinking about her all the time ever since they met a few years ago, where he was instantly intrigued by her. But now it was affecting how he lived. Some low-life criminals landed a few punches across Spider-Man’s face and sliced his bicep open with a knife. Peter was too busy thinking about how to regain Michelle’s friendship back to dodge their swings in time.

 

One day, he would be too caught up in his head and would get shot or stabbed in a place that would kill him. Peter knew that, and yet, didn’t know how to turn his head off.

 

After his tenth hit to the face that day, he couldn’t take it anymore. He headed towards his home and, instead of feeling good like that morning, felt a bit angry, and lonely, and wished that May was at home instead of her painting class.

 

Peter crawled through his bedroom window and with a wince, dropped onto his floor. He shook the suit off his body, his fingers getting caught in the hole a knife made, curled it into a ball, and chucked it into the closet. Before throwing sweatpants on, he sloppily wrapped his bicep in bandages with little care.

 

His bare feet slapped on the wood floors as he walked into the kitchen. The main area of his apartment, which compiled the living room and kitchen, was masked with darkness. The sun set on the other side of their building, May had always complained. It was dark on their side first, and they hardly got time to look at the beautiful colors.

 

Right now, it didn’t bother Peter much. He ignored turning the lights on and focused on getting food in his stomach. He swung the door open, the frigid air hitting his chest and igniting chills. “Old Chinese take out,” he whispered to himself, “salad… pizza… when did we have  _ soup _ ?”

 

“Do you always talk to yourself?” a voice boomed behind him. Peter instantly pivoted his body to the side, his leg extending and his arm drawing back. He knew that voice. The deep, sultry, ‘ _ I will kill you without even blinking _ ’ voice he had always been terrified of. “Or are you just doing it because you know I’m here?”

 

The heels of Fury’s shoes clicked on the floors. He was walking closer to Peter, the sound getting louder in his ears. He dropped his arm, and closed the fridge door as he did. Fury peered over the kitchen island. “Get up, Mr. Parker,” he demanded. “I’m not getting on that floor.”

 

Slowly, Peter raised to his feet. He gripped his shoulders with his fingers, feeling like he should’ve put a sweatshirt on. “M-Mr. Fury,” he stuttered. “You look good! It’s been a while, huh?”

 

He always looked the same, and even had the same, disappointed stare he always gave Peter. He wanted to shrivel up into a hole and disappear. 

 

Fury ignored his attempts at chit-chat. “I gave you thirty days. Thirty days where you ignored my calls, Agent Hill’s calls, requests for you to come in for a new mission, where you would’ve been given an  _ option _ .”

 

“An  _ option _ ? What does that even mean? I mean-- technically can you really make me do anything? Free will and all. And what if I just went radio silent again? What could you really do?” Peter was being stupid, testing his limits when they shouldn’t have been tested. He was smiling and trying to joke, and Fury wasn’t having it.

 

“You won’t go radio silent this time,” Fury assured. He slid a folder over the counter with the words  _ CONFIDENTIAL _ sprawled across the front. “One month ago, you abused the trust SHIELD gave you and snuck a civilian into our New York office. This civilian broke property and, in the process, might have gained the ability to endanger herself and everyone around her. You need to clean up the mess you made and bring her in, or be arrested yourself and hand the mission over to agents who will do anything to complete it.” ”

  
With one, shaking finger, Peter opened the folder up. Michelle’s school picture was clipped onto the side, and he used to look at it fondly when he remembered how she refused to smile. There was a hint of one, though, as she almost cracked upon seeing how frustrated the photographer was. Under it, though, along with her name, were the words: “ _ threat level: unknown. _ ”


	2. Chapter 2

He was the one who had proposed it. Michelle, for multiple days, had been worrying over finding a topic for her essay that would secure her a spot in this summer journalism program. It was the only thing she truly and desperately wanted to do, as she got energetic when it came up in conversation. And Peter, knowing she wanted to do investigative journalism, thought he could help.

 

It was just a tour around SHIELD. A tour that any basic middle school student could endure-- but he also had an ID card that could get them practically anywhere in the building. Maybe it was an abuse of the trust they gave him, and at the time, Peter didn’t care; Michelle had jumped at the chance when he suggested it. Her face lit up and her hand somehow found his way into his, and if that’s all he had gotten out of the afternoon, then it would’ve been a success.

 

They had just gotten done with the science labs that they had once toured as fifth graders. Michelle was glued to his side as they walked up the steps, a false badge hanging from her neck that had read  _ Mary Watson _ . “This makes us look guilty, Parker,” she kept repeating.

 

“Well-- yeah, maybe. But they would’ve recognized your name and then the whole thing would’ve been canceled before I could’ve shown you something really cool.” Peter opened up the door for floor twenty-three, and let Michelle go through first.

 

She raised her eyebrows and let her hand be taken by Peter’s. Randomly, one day, they just started doing that. Neither of them realized when it had started and neither of them batted an eye at it, and only did so when Flash had screamed at them asking if they were dating. Still, every time Peter grabbed her hand, his heart fluttered, and that day was no exception.

 

He walked forward, feeling Michelle’s grip tighten. Peter surveyed each door, looking for the correct one, his free hand lurching out and grabbing the handle of room  _ 33-J _ . “Is this where the cool stuff is?” she teased.

 

“Yes, it is. This is where you’ll get everything you need for your paper.” She made him so nervous that he just  _ talked _ , not even taking into account how boring the room would be to someone like Michelle.

 

On the keypad to his right, Peter punched in the code and scanned his thumb. The door swung open and quickly, with his hand on her lower back, he ushered Michelle inside. 

 

This room was where SHIELD, in case of another New York invasion, kept back up supplies for the Avengers. Some of the equipment were just now on display, as Fury had directly said to leave them up-- like some of Mr. Stark’s and Black Widow’s suits. He stared at them, for a moment, his heart heavy. Michelle had gripped his hand tightly and gave him a thin smile as she watched his face.

 

Peter cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “Uh… welcome to the only cool room in this whole building! Over here,” he led her to the corner of the room, “is where Captain America kept his shields. Well, the old Captain America. The new one keeps his wings and shields and stuff somewhere else.”

 

“So this is for decoration?” Michelle asked, pointing to the shield that was bolted onto the wall. 

 

_ She doesn’t even like this superhero shit _ , Peter reminded herself,  _ keep it brief _ . “Well, basically, yeah. Like some other things in here. But some other things are still in use, and still being tested. Oh! Like-- okay, wait for a few seconds, okay?”

 

He let go of her hand. Peter walked down the rows of equipment and disappeared down one, searching through the display cases. He was looking for the stealth suit he had worn during their Europe trip, hoping it would get a laugh out of her. Spider-Man was, luckily, the only superhero Michelle cared about-- and yet, she hated the stealth suit.

 

“Hey, Peter?” she shouted after him. “So is everything in this room for the Avengers?”

 

“Basically. Maybe somethings could be for different superpowered people. Or future ones, I know SHIELD is big on that.” 

 

Lightly, he could hear her hum. Peter found the stealth suit and pulled it out if its container. Before he could walk back to Michelle, though, he heard a table jerk against the floor and glass shattering. “Oh  _ shit _ ,” she swore, wincing.

 

He sprinted back to her, only to see cuts up and down her forearm. Her hand was mostly covered with blood, and she bit her lip in agony. “I was distracted--” she started explaining. “And I tripped into the table and tried catching myself and brought some of the shit on it with me.”

 

Peter took glance at the table. The glass containers were in rows and mainly unaffected, except for the one Michelle had tipped onto the floor with her. A liquid filled the containers to the brim, but finding out what was inside wasn’t his main urgency.

 

He knelt down beside her, took his sweatshirt off, and wrapped her arm in that. It was a loose bandage that probably didn’t do anything, but he hoped it would give her the illusion of an aide. 

 

“You’re terrible at this,” Michelle had said through a wince. “God, now we’re going to get in trouble for this and it’s  _ my _ fault--”

 

“No, no, we aren’t. They need me, and if you get in trouble, then I will-- well, I’ll do something that they won’t like.” That made her laugh slightly, and when he looked up at her, she stared at him with admiration. 

 

“Hey…” Michelle’s voice trailed off as he continued wrapping. “What did you want to show me?”

 

Peter hesitated, but soon he peeled his fingers off of her arm and pulled the stealth suit from behind his back. She groaned, tisking and shaking her head. “That’s still the ugliest thing I’ve seen.”

 

“I saved your ass in it, so be grateful.” 

 

“ _ My _ ass? That’s a stretch. I recall being thrown out of the way by you in that ugly thing while I tried saving  _ your _ ass.”

 

They exchanged a playful glance that became long and drawn out. Michelle suggested that they clean up the mess, which Peter started doing right away. He forgot to find out what the liquid substance was--a stupid, stupid mistake on his part, because only God knew what SHIELD produced for the Avengers.

 

Still, he cleaned the mess, and they decided it was time to get her home. She had told him, “I’m sure I have enough for my paper. But, if you ever wanted to take me again, to a  _ better _ ,  _ less dangerous _ part of the building, I wouldn’t oppose.” 

 

Peter just smiled and nodded, nudging her knee to let her know he understood.

 

The rest of the subway ride was endured in a silence. It was like that all the way up until her doorstep, where he waited, and waited for her to unlock her door. Except it never came, and instead, they were in a standstill. Michelle was shifting from foot to foot, usually awkward, and Peter was frozen staring at her.

 

Her unruly curls fell in her face, and a slight blush appeared on her cheeks as she stared back to him. “Well…” Michelle whispered. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

And then something came over Peter. Without thinking, he had taken a step forward, wrapped one arm around her waist, and pressed a soft, gentle kiss on her lips. It felt euphoric, after how long he had been yearning for it.

 

“I--” he started talking. She interrupted him, pulling him in for a deeper kiss, before she disappeared into her apartment.

 

That night, Michelle stopped responding to his texts. Then she stop attending school. And when she came back, her behavior was abnormal and completely unlike her. 

 

Things started making sense in Peter’s head. He avoided eye contact with Fury and rolled his knuckles across the kitchen counter, asking, “S-so she’s like me now? She has… powers?”

 

“Our month of surveillance--”

 

“I’m sorry, a  _ month _ ? You’ve been stalking her for a month? Why wasn’t I told about this?” The words hardly left his mouth before he wanted to shrivel back into his own body, knowing exactly what Fury would say next.

 

“This process could’ve been controlled by you, Mr. Parker, if you had picked up the phone. Now, you don’t get a choice. She trusts you. You’re the only one who can get close to her without the possibility of getting hurt.” With minimal effort, he stole the folder back from Peter, tucking it on the inside of his trenchcoat.

 

God, he felt absolutely sick. Like he was going to vomit all over  _ Nick Fury’s _ body, which might’ve been a felony offense. “So she does have powers? What would you do once I bring her in to you?” Peter tried clarifying.

 

“Our data point to yes, but we are not yet certain. And, what happens after is classified. You’ll know when you need to know.” Fury started walking towards the door, the sound of his shoes echoing throughout Peter’s head. “You have a week, Mr. Parker, before we interfere. And I know you still care about her.”

 

That was a threat, Peter realized. It was too late for him to fire back, as Fury left without another word and Peter just stood there, for minutes, trying to process what he had just been told. What  _ had _ he been told? Michelle had powers, maybe, but maybe not. He had to turn her into SHIELD, or else, Fury would hurt her (maybe, maybe not). And this was all his fault-- no maybe’s or probably’s about it.

 

His body started to shake. How the hell was he supposed to do this? Peter couldn’t get within six feet of her without Michelle running away from him. And with this now on his chest, he didn’t know how he was going to even look at her without feeling overwhelmed with guilt and fear. 

 

If he did this, if he followed Fury’s orders, Michelle would never talk to him again. And fine, maybe she wasn’t talking to Peter at that moment, but there was still a chance she could come around. If he took her as a literally  _ prisoner _ of SHIELD, she would hate him for the rest of their lives.

 

But if he didn’t do it, Fury would have it done anyway. And if Peter did it himself, at least he would know that Michelle wouldn’t be hurt. And, if she really was dangerous, he had a duty to stop that. He had a  _ responsibility _ to his city and to SHIELD, and to her, so he could make sure she was safe.

 

He brought his phone out from his back pocket and dialed her number. He pressed to his ear and started praying that this would be the time that she answered. And of course, she didn’t answer. 

 

Peter felt nauseous.

 

His previous hunger faded and he stumbled into the dark living room. He fell onto the couch, his legs giving out from beneath him as his mind began to move at a million miles a second. There were too many questions, too many paths Peter could go down before even scratching the surface for an answer. 

 

There was no way he could do this all by himself. He spammed Ned’s phone, telling him it was urgent for him to make his way over to Peter’s apartment, and hoped he would come.

 

Michelle didn’t have to go through this all on her own. He would’ve been there for her-- he knew what it was like dealing with that kind of development without being able to tell anyone. It was a special kind of hell.

 

Ned texted him back, saying, ‘ _ omw! i’m bringing pizza though. you can’t touch it. just kidding <3 _ ’ The thought of eating anything, even pizza, which usually made Peter’s mouth salivate, made him feel even worse. He laid his head down on a pillow and hoped the feeling would go away by the time Ned arrived.

 

His senses were on overdrive. He could hear what the people in the apartment above him were doing (watching the football game from last Sunday, and yelling about it like it was happening live), and also the apartment below him (trying to soothe their sobbing baby while ignoring the bursting tea kettle). Peter could smell what was rotting in his trash and everything he touched burned his fingers. 

 

Everything was too much. 

 

It was his fault. Michelle wouldn’t have been in this situation if not for him.

 

Peter could hear Ned’s footsteps as soon as he entered his floor’s hallway. He jumped off the couch, rushed across his apartment, and swung the door open. Peeking his head out, he could see Ned a few yards away from him, with his signature happy smile and a box of pizza in his hands.

 

“It’s pepperoni with extra cheese, your favorite,” he announced. He got closer to Peter and his eyes were coated with worry. “Pete, are you okay?”

 

He could feel himself losing control. His chin wobbled as he suppressed his tears, and all he could do was shrug and whisper, “I-- I don’t know.”

 

Ned brought Peter in for a long hug, but only threw one arm around him as he was still holding the pizza. Peter let out a string of sobs before attempting to compose himself.

 

He felt like he didn’t deserve to cry-- not when it was entirely his fault.

 

They sat next to each other on the couch. Peter was hunched over, his head between his knees and his breathing still constricted. Ned rubbed his back, not speaking, but Peter could feel all the inquiries begging to come out.

 

Eventually, with his face puffy and red, he calmed down enough to accept the piece of pizza that Ned forced him to eat. “You need it,” he claimed, “Your growing Spidey bones can’t survive off of no dinner.”

 

It was stupid, but it made Peter laugh.

 

“So,” Ned soon pipped up, after he finished eating his two pieces. “What’s wrong? Did something happen on patrol?”

 

“No, no, not on patrol. It’s--” Peter let out a large breath, bracing himself. “It’s about MJ.”

 

He heard his friend groan. “I thought you were going to try to… distance yourself from her.” 

 

Peter slammed his back against the armrest of the couch, his body at an intentionally weird angle so he wouldn’t have to look at Ned. His shame was too great for him to be able to stare back into Ned’s eyes, which were always glazed with admiration and respect.

 

While his knee rocked up and down the whole time, Peter told his friend the story. Ned listened intently as he whispered out various comments; like when Peter mentioned Fury, Ned said, “So cool,” and when he talked about his new mission, Ned let out a simple, “Holy shit.”

 

He repeated that until he was in too much shock to repeat it again. “Well--” Ned choked on the one syllable. “What are you going to do?”

 

Peter rubbed the inside of his palm. He pressed down hard and moved slow, because usually, it helped calm him down. His skin was going to start to peel if he kept it up.  “I don’t know. That’s why I called you.”

 

“ _ Me _ ?” Ned gasped. “I don’t know what to do! This isn’t my area of expertise, this is your’s. Spider stuff and MJ stuff. Ask me for useless facts, I’m your guy. Ask me about MJ’s favorite color? That’s a  _ you _ area.”

 

“It’s purple,” Peter said quietly and under his breath.

 

Ned grinned whilst triumphantly clapping his hands together. “See what I mean?”

 

Peter shook his head and fixed his posture. “But this is  _ different _ . If I give her to SHIELD, they run experiments on her and she never talks to me again. If I don’t, I probably get arrested and MJ hurts someone. I can’t make this decision all by myself.”

 

“I know, Pete. MJ is fantastic but-- but if she’s going to hurt someone, or hurt herself, then… then I think it’s best that you let Fury do what he does best.” Ned’s words were like a knife twisting in his stomach, and only because they were right. 

 

He felt Ned’s hand on his shoulder. “I wish Tony was still here,” Peter cried. “He would know how to handle this.”

 

“You can do this, Peter, even if it is difficult. I believe in you.” He paused and adjusted his grip. “And he always believed in you.”

 

Peter didn’t feel like crying again, so he shoved everything down as he completely laid down on the couch, his legs folded and pressed against Ned’s thigh. Ned put on a movie when he realized they were done talking-- something Peter appreciated greatly.

 

He thought about how important Michelle was during his mourning period. She yelled at Flash every time he teased Peter about it, or made a scene in the lunchroom to distract their classmates so Peter could make it to the bathroom in peace. 

 

She was so vital to him during that part of his life. And he was just turning his back on her now, wasn’t he?

 

Peter, despite his roaming thoughts, fell asleep. He woke up to May’s face a few feet away from his, as she knelt on the floor. She was shaking his shoulder lightly in an attempt to wake him up. “Hey, sleepy head,” she whispered. “Do you want to sleep in your own bed?”

 

Wordlessly, he nodded. May helped him up, and held his waist tightly as they walked to his room. He was exhausted, his eyelids occasionally giving in and letting him nod off for half a second. 

 

May set him down on his bed and tucked him in. “Ned told me about your rough evening,” she said as she moved the hair from his face. “It’s not fair that you have to do this.”

 

And, for maybe the thirtieth time that night, Peter managed to tell her, “I don’t know what to do.”

 

“I wouldn’t expect you to. And I know you feel like you should listen to what you’re being told but remember she’s more scared than you are. And you have other resources, so use them.” May leaned forward and placed a kiss on his forehead. “Goodnight, Peter.”

 

“Night, May,” he repeated, but it came out like one word.

 

This was probably the first night in a long time where he went to bed before midnight. It was another odd feeling to add onto the list of things that were affecting his mood-- including May’s comment about “other resources.” He was oblivious to what that meant.

 

Peter had a week.

 

It was going to be the worst week of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it took a bit long for me to post this and im sorry, but school just ended so updates should be faster!! thank you for reading <3
> 
> curiouscat: https://curiouscat.me/parkerbjones  
> twitter: @parkerbjones


	3. Chapter 3

Day one passed and Peter got nothing done. He waited for inspiration to hit him, or a sign to tell him how he should tackle this, but it never came. He sat behind Michelle in biology, and then algebra and history, and all of his annoying thoughts gave him a headache. The information was too much for him to handle, as he felt like he was going to explode all the time.

 

On day two, he got  _ somewhere _ . It took him almost forty eight hours to decide he should follow her around, collect some data of his own, and to find the optimal time to confront her. The plan made Peter feel dirty, though-- he was stalking her so he could capture her. It was disgusting.

 

Now, he was on day three. Even though he had four days left, which was plenty of time, the limit felt suffocating.

 

“ _ Why don’t you just talk to her? _ ” Karen echoed in his ears. “ _ I’m sure she’d appreciate that more than what you’re doing right now _ .”

 

Peter was sitting on the roof of the building across the street from her apartment. His feet hung over the edge as he stared at her window and waited for any signs of movement. Michelle hadn’t moved in twenty-two minutes, though-- she was probably just napping.

 

“I would love to do that, Karen, but it doesn’t really sound like the right thing for this mission.” He squinted his eyes, thinking he spotted movement through the window. “Karen, can you zoom in some more?”

 

She complied, and the finer details of Michelle’s room came into Peter’s vision. He got distracted analyzing what was in front of him; all of her pictures of him that she had hung up on her wall were still there. Peter chuckled to himself and requested Karen to zoom in once more. He saw their photobooth photostrip, where Michelle had surprised him by placing a kiss on his cheek. He couldn’t believe she still had it up.

 

Peter moved to look at the other photos, but a white blob filled his sight. “Karen, zoom out,” he demanded, to see that Michelle had pulled the blinds down. He groaned and rose to his feet, his gaze flickering to the street below him.

 

It wasn’t long before he saw Michelle walk out of her apartment. The earbuds she wore in school were replaced by industrial-looking headphones. She tugged the sleeves of her sweatshirt over her hands as she glanced down the street, trying to find a good time to cross. Even from the rooftop Peter was situated on, he could tell she was nervous. He had Karen zoom in on her face and saw her furrowed eyebrows and her watering eyes, which were cleared by one swoop of her sweaterhands.

 

“It’s possible for you to lock in on her, right?” he asked Karen. “Like making it so I don't lose her in this crowd.”

 

“ _ Sure thing _ ,” Karen complied. Michelle was now highlighted in red, and it kind of disappointed him-- he could no longer clearly see her face.

 

Peter shrugged that feeling off and his attention clicked back down to the street below. She sprinted across the street, her long legs propelling her forward, and moved westward. Occasionally, she would bump into people and a scowl would replace her nervous expression. Michelle would blast past those people without even mumbling a sorry and continue to her destination.

 

_ So _ unlike her. Sure, maybe she had a bit of a rough side around people at school--especially Flash--but she was nauseatingly nice to strangers. It was a drastic change for Peter to witness her asking the grocer how his day was, or give the waitress a bigger tip because they were a bit slow to order and therefore held the table up for too long.

 

Peter was trying to find that quality again. As he closely followed her from far above, he couldn’t see it. Whatever was going on with her that changed her this much had to be killing her; he knew all Michelle aspired to be was a good person. That aspiration seemed to be lost.

 

She walked into the grocery store and Peter took a rest. He was bored; he flattened his back against the roof and could feel the sun begin to burn through his suit. Right now, he could be with Ned, playing his new, pre-owned PS4. Or Peter could be doing something smart like  _ homework _ \-- or he could talk to Michelle.

 

God, he wanted to so badly. But it’d be idiotic.

 

Michelle walked out of the grocery store fifteen minutes later. The plastic bag was hanging by her knees and she swung it with every step. It looked light, though, so Peter hypothesized that it was just a few snacks. (Probably her favorite-- white cheddar Cheez-its.) In her hand was a bottle of Pepsi that she took occasional drinks of.

 

She was more aloof now. Michelle bopped her head to her music and Peter could see a slight smile appear. He blushed as he watched her, like he used to when he was four feet in front of her. Peter missed this sight. He wished he could get closer.

 

Now, about thirty minutes after she left the store, exhaustion was creeping up on him. He had followed her from the grocery store to the bookstore where she stayed for a while. Peter could see her through the window, reading, and his skin crawled at the thought that entered his brain.

 

He could slip a tracker onto her. That way, he could go home, eat something, maybe take a nap-- and everything she did would still be recorded. All of this made him nauseous, all of this made him feel like a terrible person, but he had to do it. Might as well make it easier on himself, right? (It would never be easier, though. He could feel his low levels of self confidence being eaten away by guilt.)

 

And maybe, getting close to her would allow Peter to talk to her. Maybe he could convince Michelle to… to be  _ Michelle _ again. Maybe he can tell SHIELD they made a mistake.

 

On the street below him, she was taking long strides. The sidewalk was mostly clear, except for a few stragglers who were wandering around. Peter was amping himself up, trying to convince himself that this was the right thing to do.  _ Just do it _ , he thought,  _ it’ll be okay. Talk to her. Do it _ .

 

He shook his hands out nervously and took deep breaths. As Peter prepared to land on the sidewalk, he spotted a lamppost and aimed for it as he jumped. His hands tightened around the metal as he swung around the post, then released and landed on the concrete with only a slight stumble. Peter looked up; he was only a few yards away from her.

 

Michelle was frozen. Her eyes wavered as she analyzed him, and her mouth opened and shut a few times. Her fingers, eventually gaining their movement back, ran through her hair as a nervous tick. And Peter wasn’t any better-- it was as if he surprised himself by doing this, as his entire body shut down and he felt like his soul was floating away.

 

She clenched her jaw and began walking. Michelle tried speeding past him, which is when Peter jumped in front of her, gently taking ahold of both of her arms. Intentionally, his left hand wrapped around her arm more than his right hand did; the pressure pad of his shooters clicked, and the tracker bug he once used years ago was released.

 

It started relaying information to him.  _ Your target is one foot away _ , his screen read. His eyes scanned it as Michelle’s arms remained glued to his hands-- why hadn’t she pulled away yet?

 

“C-can you take the headphones off?” Peter finally mustered as his attention returned to her. She just glared silently. “ _ Please _ ?”

 

Michelle brought her ear down to her shoulder and nudged one part of it, revealing only a small part of her ear. “What do you want?” she said through gritted teeth.

 

“I--” he checked behind his shoulder to be sure that no one could hear him. “I want to talk to you, MJ. It’s been over a month since we last talk spoke and I miss you. So much.” Peter held his tongue back as he wanted to say more. He wanted to tell her he knew what was happening to her and  _ warn _ her.

 

But he held back. Even if it was hard, as Michelle’s eyes turned him into mush.

 

He continued when she didn’t say anything. “Ned and I-- we, uh, still have weekly movie nights on Fridays, if you wanted to maybe stop by.”  _ If I haven’t turned you into Fury at that point _ , Peter thought, scorning himself for bringing it up.

 

Her features hardened as she scanned his face. Over and over again, her eyes flickered and her expression turned more and more malicious. Like she could see through his thin excuse for talking to her, which was something she had always been good at, but this felt like something  _ more _ . It was as if Michelle was in his head as Peter watched a single tear develop in her waterline.

 

She tore his hands off of her forearm. “Leave me alone, Parker,” she demanded.

 

“MJ--” Peter shouted, and watched her walk away from him. He just  _ watched _ , and didn’t do anything to stop her from leaving him, yet again.

 

A pit grew in his stomach and his throat. Peter stood there and shifted from foot to foot, feeling embarrassed, stupid, with a hint of worthlessness. That was probably the perfect chance to follow Fury’s orders, and the thought didn’t even cross his mind. And the way Michelle looked at him, full of betrayal and hatred, made the urge to cry hard to fight.

 

Peter hated crying in the mask. It was harder to breath in it.

 

He took off in the opposite direction of Michelle’s strides. Suppressing his emotions wasn’t getting Peter anywhere; he was mid-swing when he let out a single sob, and bit down on his lip as he attempted to land on another rooftop. He slid across the pavement once he did, instantly pulling the mask off so air could flow through his lungs.

 

Peter took exaggerated breaths. He clutched his chest, feeling the tears started to flow. She looked at him like he was a monster. Like nothing between them will ever matter again, because of how terrible he was.

 

And he  _ understood _ . This wasn’t something you were supposed to do to a friend. But if he didn’t try-- he would be arrested (add selfish to the list of adjectives to describe Peter,) and Michelle would be taken in anyways.

 

He had had the same thoughts going through his head for three straight days. He just wanted them gone.

 

What would Tony do? his mind wandered.

 

If this was Pepper, if this was Morgan, or someone else Tony cared about deeply, what would he have done? Ned thought Tony would have done exactly what SHIELD wanted, but to Peter, that sounded so wrong. Tony would’ve fought until the last moment to save his family. He would’ve done his own tests and procedures and would’ve told Fury to screw off.

 

Tony had power, though. He had recourses Peter never would be able to get ahold of. He was one man-- more like  _ boy _ \-- and Tony had back-up.

 

Back-up. 

 

Holy shit. Peter finally understood what May meant.

 

Technically, he was an avenger. He had a room at the compound that he had yet to use, which was enough to give him bragging rights around Ned. So, they had to help him, right? If Peter brought Michelle to the compound, they would protect her from SHIELD.

 

At least, he hoped. 

 

He wasn’t all that confident in it, actually-- but this was the only solution he had. This was his fault, since it was his idea to have a date in a highly classified government building. His fault, his responsibility, and all he had was a shitty plan. At least he had one.

 

After drying his face off with the back of his hand, Peter pulled the mask back on. He scanned the GPS tracker; Michelle was in Brooklyn. On his way there, he noticed how much better he was feeling. Now, his gut wasn’t in his throat and he wasn’t on the verge of constant tears. Instead, Peter felt  _ good _ and  _ proud _ , finally having a solution that was going to help her instead of hurt her.

 

Michelle, as his map read, was at a  _ bar _ . (That didn’t make any sense, but Peter wasn’t going to think about that. He was caught up in what she used to be, not what she was now.) He kept his eyes peeled for  _ Freddy’s _ , and when he found it, he landed in front of it.

 

Walking into stores and restaurants in the Spidey suit, at times, made Peter feel uncomfortable. Fans and children would get excited, making too much noise as they jumped up and down; fans of JJ Jameson’s podcast, on the other hand, would make snide comments and even  _ boo _ him to his  _ face _ . However, at this bar, nobody even looked at him.

 

_ It’s a sign _ , Peter thought. A sign that good things were coming-- but that might’ve just been a major stretch on his part.

 

The door of Freddy’s closed behind him silently. Two dozen people were drinking, and none of them looked like Michelle. “Where is she?” Peter asked Karen.

 

His eyes automatically zeroed in on an older man at the bar, who was drinking whiskey and looked like he was about to throw up. The man’s elbow glowed a vibrant red through Peter’s suit. He blinked, then blinked again, thinking his eyes were tricking him.

 

“No, really,” he whispered. “Where is she?”

 

“ _ The tracker is on that elderly man’s elbow. Michelle must have slipped it onto him. _ ”

 

_ Fuck _ , Peter thought. 

 

How did she do that? Those didn’t come off by a brush of the hand or by getting caught on fabric. They had to be deliberately peeled off of the skin, or turned off by Peter, himself. So Michelle  _ knew _ about it. But how?

 

That was besides the point, though. He had lost her, and needed to find her. 

 

He sprinted out of the bar and took off into the sky immediately. Peter attempted to rush his swings, by spitting a web out, pulling quick and hard, and releasing a second later. That didn’t get him anywhere quicker, though-- he just got a facefull of asphalt and his fingers crushed by a bicyclist.

 

Wincing as he shook the pain off, he started doing things the normal way. His fingers ached as he brought them together, but he had to ignore it. Peter  _ needed _ to talk to Michelle. He needed to help her. (He needed to help himself.)

 

Peter went back to the same place he started that afternoon: the rooftop across the street from her apartment. He peered into the windows once more, not feeling like any less of a creep, and scanned the room. Michelle wasn’t in there, at least not in the areas he could see.

 

He waited five minutes until the desperation kicked in. Eagerly, his fingers tapped a rapid beat on the ground and his eyes bounced  The faster he got to her, the more time he would have to fool SHIELD.

 

In the alleyway behind her building, Peter had stashed a backpack full of clothes. It had been there since their sophomore year after the homecoming dance, when they really became friends. Ned kept nagging at him to take them home, since they didn’t have any use just sitting there.  _ Jokes on him _ , Peter thought as he took out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

 

He slipped his suit off them slipped his clothes on, stuffed the suit into his backpack and wore it. His stomach was in shambles as he walked up the steps of her apartment, his damaged fingers twitching against the straps of the backpack.

 

The last time Peter saw Michelle’s mother, she broke the news to him. She probably won’t be too happy to see him.

 

And yet, he still knocked on the door. He paced a two foot radius anxiously, debating with himself underneath his breath if he still had enough time to run away.

 

He didn’t. Michelle’s mom opened the door, the warm smile on her face falling away. (The same smile Michelle had, but Peter didn’t have time to think about that.) “Oh, Peter,” she sighed.

 

He gripped the straps of his backpack tightly. “I know, I know. And I’m so sorry to intrude on you like this and I know MJ doesn’t want to see me but I really need to talk to her. Like, life or death.”

 

“That’s a little overdramatic, don’t you think?” She crossed her arms, giving him a familiar, questioning stare.

 

“No, no it isn’t.”

 

Mrs. Jones checked over her shoulder, her features relaxing. “I never figured out why she cut ties with you, y’know. You really were her best friend. So, I wish I could help you, Peter. But, she isn’t home yet. And I would tell her to talk to you, but she hasn’t been listening to me lately.”

 

_ She ran away. She’s never coming back. SHIELD will get to her before I do _ , Peter’s mind went wild. He ran his hand over his head, staring down at the floor as he tried regaining his thoughts. “Okay, okay,” he whispered and repeated to himself.

 

“You can wait inside if you want,” Mrs. Jones offered. “I’m sure she won’t be long.”

 

“No, no, no, it’s fine. It’ll-- it’ll be okay.” No, it wouldn’t, but he would have to live with it. “I have to go. Home. May is… is making me make dinner tonight. Thank you, Mrs. Jones.”

 

Peter took a long stride away from her and almost tripped over his own feet on the second step. He could feel Mrs. Jones’ eyes following him, and felt the door shake him to his core when she slammed it.

 

His feet carried him without him thinking. Peter was just focusing on his breathing-- four seconds in, seven seconds holding, eight seconds out. His eyes were closed as he did this, and just hoped his Spidey sense would help him in case of emergency.

 

When it finally went off, Peter was at the end of the hall, and he opened his eyes. He was staring Michelle right in the face once again.

 

Her headphones were at her side and she wasn’t moving.

 

Why wasn’t she moving?

 

“Talk,” she said, flatly and plainly like Peter shouldn’t have been so surprised over this.

  
But he _ was _ shocked, and in the one moment he needed it, it was like his tongue had been cut from his mouth.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i actually have had this chapter written for a while but i wanted to get a good chunk of chapter four done before i posted ch3, so i’m sorry for abandoning this story for a while. but it’s back! and hopefully i’ll have more consistent updates. hope everyone enjoyed and tysm for reading !!


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